Artificial Illumination and the Serial Killers

 Did you ever walk outside to take out the garbage in the still of the night, and clouds were just right so that the street was colored an eerie shade of ethereal blue? You naturally stop and look around to be sure there's nobody looking at you from behind a bush. You know the kind of night I'm talking about. If you saw a scene like this on a TV show you'd be saying, "Oooh, something's going to happen! Why does he just keep standing there? Doesn't he hear that suspenseful music?!" If you know this scene, then congratulations, 𝅘𝅥𝅯dun dun𝅘𝅥𝅯, you have probably watched as many crime shows as I have. (Although, probably not.)

Luckily Sylvia and I didn't experience any of this mysterious blue lighting on our recent getaway. In fact, we experienced no lighting at all! (Dun Dun!)

We plotted and planned and prioritized a week away in-between teaching, girls' getaways, and convention. It was a much needed trip to anywhere but we decided that the scenery in the wine country was much better than "anywhere" so we went to Windsor, CA. It's close enough that we could drive and far enough away that we had to get the kids to take care of the dogs. Honestly, I have been looking forward to this trip ever since we started planning it. "We" is a relative term when talking about the specifics of trip planning. It typically goes like this: 

Sylvia: There's a place we could stay at in Windsor!

Me: Sounds great!

S: Let's see if there's a place in Monterey, that's nice too.

J: Yup!

S: Oh, they're booked. What's this next place? Where is that? They've got a room for some of the time.

J: Just checked. It's down near San Diego.

S: That's too far. Let's look at....

And so on, and so forth, for a while...until.

S: What about that place we could stay at in Windsor! Should I book it?

J: Yes! Great! Thanks!

Trust me, I am not complaining! I just know how she likes to look at all the possibilities and try to find the very best for us. I appreciate it sincerely and, honestly, if Sylvia is there, it's my favorite place to be.

So we took the relatively short drive to Windsor and started our getaway. It took a lot less time to type that than the actual event because we have a habit of setting several ambitious departure times and then watching helplessly as they each gently slide by in activity-filled succession. 12 o'clock. Begin packing and oh I just want to spruce up the kitchen before we go. 1 o'clock. Phone call from family. 2 o'clock. Text from Krisi asking if it's OK to bring over someone she'd like us to meet. 4 o'clock. Finalize packing. 4:45 Make sure the dogs are OK since they never like it when we get out a suitcase. 5 o'clock. Leave the house.

I said all that so you would get the idea that it was beginning to get dark when we got checked in. We got our keys, and these cool little bracelets that are keys that you wear, and set off to find our building. 

We parked, got out, and followed the sketched out pen drawing of the map to the elevator since lugging a few suitcases up to the third floor was not my idea of a great start to a relaxing vacation. When the elevator door opened it looked a little darker than the inside of a typical elevator but we could just make out the number three button and the doors began to close. As they did, it got darker, and darker and then there was absolutely no light. It was a little disconcerting. We knew we were alone and we knew that we were only two 'ding's away from our final destination. Well, hopefully not our final destination but you know what I mean. The doors opened and we were greeted by an empty walkway. No large man in a hockey mask. Nobody with sharpened knives where fingers should have been. Not even a mild-mannered accountant looking gentleman who, inexplicably, was wearing a clear plastic coverall over his pocket protector and white button up shirt. There was nobody there, and we got to our room without a problem. (I'd like to add that we were able to open the door at a normal pace and not by frantically fumbling with the key in an effort to get in and slam the door just before the lumbering dark figure reached the threshold as the music quickened and the cymbal crashed!)

We set down our things, unpacked the suitcase into the dresser in the bedroom, (yes, we are those type of people...are you?), and then called the front desk to tell them that there was a situation in the elevator in building number 3. After a bit we left the room to go grab something to eat and we talked about how someone could have broken the light in an effort to make criminal activity easier to achieve and how she was glad I was with her when we encountered the spooky elevator because she knew, with me being a large guy...it would take a while for the madman to finish me off and she'd have time to run away to safety! (that's not even close to her reason, but I've seen these kinds of shows and I know that Sylvia is definitely leading lady material! They are always fine.) As we walked toward the maniac-free stairs I suggested that we try the elevator to see if they had already fixed the light. No such luck...but I got out the flashlight on my phone and noticed that there wasn't one large fluorescent light fixture but 6 individual bulbs.

I figured the odds of six lights going out simultaneously were astronomical. I thought about how well-regulated and inspected elevators generally are and how unlikely it would be to have an entire system broken in a well-maintained facility so I reached up and twisted a bulb. Immediately there was light! I reached for the others and, in no time, the elevator was back to its fully illuminated serial killer-free self. Sylvia remarked about how my brain just doesn't work the same way as others do and how it would never occur to her to try the light bulbs to see if they were unscrewed. I'm used to it. At least I am using my powers for good and not evil.

And that, officer, is how my fingerprints got onto all of the lightbulbs in the elevator! I'm innocent I tell you! Dun dun dunnnnnn...

Hurt Me!

I wrote this title about half a year ago. I jotted down a few sentences but got interrupted by life so I never finished it. While the original beginning to this particular blog post doesn't apply, the general principle does. I woke early this morning and, since I love to write, took the extra time as permission to try to make people laugh.

I started to think what could I write about? Most of the time I just sit and start plunking at the keys. (Think: a million monkeys banging on a million typewriters...I know I've used this analogy in the past but I have never tried it. Mostly because the cost of feeding a million monkeys would be prohibitive, but also, think of the smell!) Today felt different. I needed a reason to write. What's been happening? What's been on my mind? Honestly, lately, I've been thinking about my knees. 

I'm guessing that the most astute among you have already figured out that the only reason a reasonable rational person would think about knees at all is because there was a problem. Even though very few people have called me reasonable or rational...they would be correct. There is a problem. I suppose, rather, more accurately, there was a problem. It's almost the year anniversary of when I tumbled down the cement steps in front of the house. Really I fell off the step-stool on the porch, and then I tumbled down the cement steps in front of my house. Here's the breakdown: (1 middle aged out of shape guy + one rickety 4 foot tall step-stool + 6 cement steps) 32 feet per second/per second = OUCH! And they said I'd never use math again once I got out of school! The correct answer is actually OUCH to the second power since I wrenched the heck out of both knees in the span of a few seconds. It hurt! Each of my big toes was pointing in completely different directions! And different elevations! My core even hurt because I tried to. I don't know, hold myself up by sheer will. I was probably trying to stifle yelling out too. I'd hate to bother the neighbors you know. 

Our kitty-corner back yard neighbor was out walking the dog about 50 feet from my impromptu gymnastic routine. As I struggled to get to a position that would alleviate the pain I caught her eye. It's hard to describe really, but she never moved a muscle to help. She didn't take the slow beginning steps toward our house to see if she could help. She didn't yell out, "Are you OK? Want me to call 911? Nice one!" Nothing! She didn't even raise an eyebrow or nod to say she was another human being in the same vicinity of another human being. She just slowly turned and walked away. She's moved away now. I'll just say that I didn't contribute to her going away present through a haze of tears.

Now I can finally get to the point. I know I have a problem finally doing that. I apologize.

After the initial pain, through trips to the ER and MRI and more medication than I've taken in the last few years combined, I started physical therapy. What a miracle! Here I was getting ready to begin teaching kindergarten again and I was effectively immobile. I don't know if you know anything about kindergarteners, but if they sense weakness they pounce! Just kidding, but it is physically demanding. This is what I told my physical therapist. "HURT ME!" Don't take it easy on me because it looks like I'm in pain...get me to walk without a cane in 4 weeks! As I struggled to get up from repairing the hardwood floor last night, looking like a newborn baby giraffe struggling to get to his feet, I thought about how lucky I am to be able to still do work and, mostly pain free, get up.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to go finish fitting the last few boards into place. I fully understand why those guys earn so much money! Wish me luck!

Air Quotes and the Modern Reader: A Study in Foolishness

 I am officially on summer vacation starting now. Teachers use different methods of determining when their vacation officially begins. For some it is precisely when the kids leave the door on the last day. For others, it is when they go to the after work gathering and finally get hold of that adult beverage that's been calling to them since March. Still others say that vacation begins when keys are turned in to the office and they are no longer required to maintain the classroom. (As a teacher who is notoriously likely to stay in the classroom rearranging, reorganizing, and reevaluating why I have so many items in my room, I would say that I turn in my keys so I am no longer allowed to maintain my classroom.) For many teachers the vacation officially begins the moment they turn off the school-year alarm. For me, the vacation is officially begun the first time I wake up at the time I would normally get up and get ready and do something else instead. Sitting down to write has made it official. Summer break is a go! When do you consider your vacation started?

Today I sat down to write but I could have just as easily sat down to 'read'. If you were here watching me sit alone in the living room, in the dark of the morning, wearing the tuxedo I always wear to write my blog (I feel it gives my writing an air of sophistication) you would wonder why my first activity wasn't sleeping in later than normal. For that you'd have to have a conversation with the hairy beast with no opposable thumbs and therefore cannot open the door to the back yard to go to the bathroom. Our chocolate lab, Bosco (too cute right) is a creature of habit and once he's settled in on a routine, it's pretty much set in stone. That's why I am up at a little after 5 on a day when my responsibilities are my own. "A little after 5!?!" you shout into your computer screen as you decide that I am crazy for letting the dog dictate my timeline. Well, I've tried, on several occasions, to force Bosco to wait a while longer and to just go lay down for a while longer. Let's just say that the results were unpleasant, and required copious amounts of disinfectant and paper towels. It's OK. I can get up and talk to you lovely people. Besides, if I jump up and do something right away for an extra hour each day for a month and a half, it's like I've squeezed another 4 days into my summer vacation! That's not my idea. That's an idea from a book I just 'read' about getting yourself moving and getting things done.

This brings me to what I actually wanted to talk to you about today. I'm guessing that many of you, dear readers, have noticed that I included added little bits of punctuation on the word 'read' both times I've written it. Bravo if you noticed. If you only noticed because you were making a mental note to yell at me for using incorrect grammar, well, your gonna haight dis neckst part uv da sentins. (Writing that caused me physical pain.)  The real reason I added the sky commas was because there is no punctuation, that I'm aware of. that denotes 'air quotes'. So here's the question: Does anyone else feel the need to use air quotes when telling a friend that you have just finished 'reading' an audiobook?

Here's my thinking. Listening to an audiobook feels a little like cheating. If someone tells me that they read a book, I imagine them sitting outside their perfectly kept house, in a lounge chair, with all of their responsibilities neatly managed and time-organized giving them the ability to enjoy a book. Several parts of that sentence rarely apply to me, personally. In the age of self-care I still find it difficult and guilt inducing to take several hours out of future weeks to sit and read a book...even if my dog and I have added 4 days to our summer. When do I feel it's ok to 'read' a book? How about while I'm mowing the lawn? Pop on the noise canceling headphones over my blue-tooth enabled hearing aids and suddenly my menial task is much less unpleasant! I know there are many people who claim that taking care of the yard and garden takes them to their happy place...we'll discuss these crazy people in a later blog. Other 'reading' opportunities? While I'm checking to see if my kindergarten students have colored within the lines. While deciding which of my CD's to take to the Half Price book store. (spoiler alert: all of them.) Doing the dishes, folding clothes, sweeping the floor, driving to and from work (lest you picture me as a modern-day Cinderfella who only does chores around the house...which reminds me, while cleaning the fireplace and chimney!)

The point is, I've found so many times and activities where I can 'read' the books in my digital library without totally checking out and without isolating myself from the family. Although, If I were to sit and actually read on a lounge chair outside, I would get to interact with the family as they each took turns bringing me peeled grapes and glasses of lemonade. I think I need to start 'reading' more non-fiction books. I'm starting to hallucinate about the family!

Hire this person!

 When a colleague asked me to write her a letter of recommendation it brought out a few interesting thoughts. First, why the heck would anyone want to stop working with me? I'm a delight! (Just kidding, I know that neighboring districts pay a lot more money than ours. What're ya gonna do.) The second thought was, who, other than my mommy, gives a baboon's butt about my opinion? And finally, and perhaps most importantly, if I write her an awesome recommendation, she may actually get the job! And then where would I be!? The other kindergarten teacher and I would need to train a new coworker. Woe is me. (Actually, Woe is us, but I'm not in the mood right now to coin new phrases so I'll just go with it.)

I know, I'll write a horrible review! I think I'll probably use her real name here, because it's funnier that way! Well, it's funnier to me. Here goes! 

To Whom it may concern,

I would like to say that I have had the pleasure of working with Jay this year. I would like to. She is a brave young woman who almost never smells of alcohol and almost never gets angry when the students wake her from her numerous morning naps. Worry not, the students are always otherwise engaged while she is "resting" from the night before. She has an extensive library of movies that the kids have been trained to cycle through. Don't worry, she won't allow them to watch any movies rated NC-17 unless they sign a waiver. (well, scribble a crayon mark on a waiver...none of them can write anything yet.)

She has a lot of energy, especially when cornering and executing the various woodland creatures that wander across the playground. I wouldn't say that she's got homicidal tendencies...but I wouldn't not say it. Her students gain loads of life experience and real practical knowledge by helping her clean, dress, and barbecue these animals. She is very encouraging in these endeavors and always forgiving when they make mistakes. She helps them adapt to their new realities by handing out clever nicknames. "Lefty" is now completely comfortable handling the knives and "Smoky" knows exactly how much lighter fluid is just a bit too much.

Inclusion and acceptance is important in her classroom as well. The students are almost completely tolerant of her excessive flatulence and colorful tourettes-like outbursts. 

Outdoor education is also an important part of her curriculum. She is averaging a nearly 80% successful return rate for students who go on field trips with her. And if you count the students who are carrying her container of cigarettes and romance novels, that percentage jumps to 90%!

In conclusion, I think it would be a great idea to let her "work" for you. You shouldn't let fact that her alleged connections to organized crime are a serious arson risk. You have insurance, right?

Jeff Garrett